Missing Piece
by CharFire
Summary: George never thought he'd get to hear his brother's voice again. (Oneshot)


The woods were exactly as he remembered them. That was the first thing he registered as he slowly stepped into the Forest. Each tree was thick and black, stretching far above his head, blocking off the last of the sunlight and absorbing every sound so that the silence pressed in from all sides. He never remembered it being this quiet. Maybe the beings of the Forbidden Forest knew what today was. Or maybe it had always been this quiet, but he had never noticed before because _he_ had always been there.

It was getting darker, which meant the sun was finally setting. They would know he had left soon, and then they would come looking. Hopefully, by then, he would have what he needed.

" _Lumos."_ He whispered and suddenly a little ball of light came to life at the end of his wand. The pure light made everything pale, and he had to blink to see clearly, his wand light now the only guide through the black forest and along the overgrown paths.

It was strange. Not just the silence, not just the loneliness, but the fact that he was here again after all this time. He hadn't been here in years, even before _it_ happened. He hadn't been back to the castle at all since-

He stopped walking then. He knew he was shaking, but he couldn't help it, especially since it was the anniversary. It had been three years. Three years since the horrible night when everything, _everything,_ had changed. He choked back a small sob, standing alone in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. It still hurt like hell to think about, and today made it so much worse. He knew he was crying, knew that things were watching him in the shadows but he couldn't bring himself to care. Today was the anniversary he had lost half his soul. His brother. Fred.

George Weasley wiped a tear from his cheek and was glad again that no one knew he was gone. Or at the very least, if they did by now, they had no idea that he had come back here. They would have wanted to come with him, but if they had, he knew he wouldn't have been able to make it this far in. He needed to do this alone, without the hovering or the pity or the gentleness that seemed to come with loss. It was meant to comfort him, but honestly, nothing pissed him off more.

Ever since his brother was killed in the Battle, there had been an endless stream of people coming in and out of the shop to offer condolences and donate money. The Burrow had been packed with grieving friends and family, all to remember Fred along with the others, like Remus and Tonks. People had told stories, shared memories of his twin and had tried to call to him, to call him back with the rest of the family and to help lift the veil of utter agony that had settled around his heart.

It had been three years, and so far no one had succeeded.

George took a deep breath of the chilling forest air and kept going. The path was rough now, and his light wasn't enough to cover half of it. He knew he should extend it, but he wanted to be in the dark for a moment. Fred certainly was. George shook his head. He had to focus. But even so, as he walked, his thoughts circled back to everything that had changed in the time after the battle, specifically his family.

Ginny had taken up running the shop with him in her off duty time as a Chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies. George had always known she had a knack for pranking (specializing in revenge for scorned lovers), but she had surprised him with her keen ideas on marketing. In the year that had followed Fred's death, George had neglected Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, letting the demands pile up, the shop go into disrepair and nearly letting it all go bankrupt before his little sister had quiet literally dragged him out of his misery by his one good ear and told him to sod off and work. Which he had appreciated, but as sweet the gesture was, it didn't entirely work. He got back on his feet, more or less, but he still was a mess. Ginny had helped him a lot, but she wasn't Fred.

Bill and Charlie had come around more often, which was new. Bill and Fleur were always busy, it seemed, with their daughter Victoire. She was handful for such a small baby. And Charlie was off doing who knows what with his dragons, this time in the Netherlands. He had written a couple months ago, saying he was going to be heading up a sanctuary that was rescuing endangered Malaysian Blackspears. But still, his oldest brothers were making an effort to come home a lot more, always trying to cheer him up by taking him out, trying to get him to have a good time. They always meant well, but each and every time, it was straining for George to put on a smile and fake his way through the night.

When were they going to get it that he only ever had a good time with Fred?

Mum and Dad were just… lost. Mum kept crying and holding onto him some days, as if she thought he was going to go and disappear on her next. Other days, she could hardly look at him. He could hardly blame her. After all they had been through, from Ginny's possession in her first year, to Bill's attack during the first attack at Hogwarts….it didn't feel right that Fred was the one to pay the ultimate price.

Dad was run down, almost to the point of collapse. He stayed at work so late that by the time he came home, he had to leave for work again. He had moved up in the Ministry to head up a task force that would round up all the remaining violating Death Eaters and supporters, a position that paid much more than his old one in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Division. And he had heard Kingsley Shacklebolt mention that his Dad was put in for another promotion because of his hard work over the last couple of years. But George knew that his Dad only worked so hard was because it was his way of getting retribution for Fred.

Percy just kept apologizing, even after all this time. George had long ago forgave him, since Fred had done just that shortly before...shortly before. He remembered how mad they had been at their older brother, the prat he was. He remembered the long conversations he and Fred would have alone in their dorm, how Fred would just rave and rant over their complete pig of an older brother and George would nod and let him yell because he knew that's what Fred needed. And then Fred would let him do the same on the days when he exploded. And they had both laughed it off in the end.

Fred had died with a laugh, that even in the middle of the biggest battle in history, he managed to smile and joke. And it was Percy who had done that for him. George told him this every time, and every single time, the two brothers would hold each other tightly as tears rolled down their face.

That's what he had loved about his twin the most, what they had shared. They had been two halves of a whole, never one without the other. FredandGeorge. Brothers in crime, the pranksters of Gryffindor House, the ones that could rival even the legendary Marauders themselves. They could share a look and read each others mind, joke and laugh, get the girls. They had built an empire together, trained together, played Quidditch together, lived together. Brothers, twins, best friends, wingmen...they had been everything to each other. And now George was lost without him.

The only one who had let him grieve was Ron. His little brother. He understood. His little brother had been through so much more than George would have ever known. Ron had come to him, a few hours after the battle had died down, and simply put his arm around his shoulders and sighed. George had laid his head on his baby brother's shoulder, no longer feeling anything other than numb.

 _He's gone._ George had whispered. _I'm so sorry._ Ron had replied.

He was the only one who might be able to guess where George was headed now, and the only one who wouldn't tell. He, Harry, and Hermione would understand. Those three always did.

It was Harry who actually gave him the idea for this. Harry had finally finished telling them all everything that had happened in the Forbidden Forest that night, and George had known that this was it. It was his chance, his only reasonable chance. It was what he needed. Fred had died, just like that, with no warning. And he was gone, before George could react, before he could tell him-

George stopped when he reached a clearing. It was here. It was exactly as Harry described: low and flat leading up to a large outcrop of boulders and twisted dead trees, where Voldemort and his small rank had gathered in wait. Where they had waited for Harry to submit himself for sacrifice. George walked all the way around until he was between two thick trunks. Harry had been here, invisible. The red head could only imagine what the boy had been preparing to do, to give up his own life, a life thousands had given up to save, to cherish and follow, he had been ready to die for them, for his friends and family at the age of 17.

It had taken a while but George finally understood. If he could have given his life to save Fred's, he would have done it in a heartbeat, a thousand times over.

George started looking at his feet as he walked, searching the ground frantically. It had to be here. It just had to be. There was no other option.

" _Lumos Maxima."_ he whispered, though he knew a thousand unfriendly things could be watching him, especially this deep in the Forest. Though as far as he knew, the majority of the dark beasts had since vacated the Hogwarts premises, having been killed or banished during the final uprising.

The light from his wand pulsated brightly, shining like daybreak and making the Devil's Snare and other lurking vines retract their vines from the light. George blinked away tears that formed and tried to focus his search again. It had to be here, it just had to be. Harry had said he dropped it right before he surrendered. So it had to be here, right? Then again, it had been three years. It could be buried, moved, degraded-

The light flashed across an object half hidden by leaves. George moved his wand over the small section again. There. Nervously, he knelt on the cold dirt and moved the leaves away. It was smaller than he had thought. Barely a stone at all. It was sharp, deep black in color with a whitish sheen that had caught the light. There was something about it, though, that was magic. It pulse with a power that was dark and mysterious, though not altogether evil. It wasn't a Horcrux, according to Harry. It was harmless. Gingerly, he picked it up and held it in the palm of his hand.

George closed his eyes and thought of him. His eyes, his laugh, his smile, all identical to himself. He turned the stone over in his palm as he did so, praying he had got it right, that for just one moment, one last moment, he'd be able to see-

" _George."_

His eyes flew open at the sound of that voice, that voice so breathy and distant, but all so familiar. Even after all this time he still knew that voice. It was like his, but richer. Even now, though it was as if he was calling from the end of a distant tunnel, it was the same voice he had grown up listening to, like a match to his own heartbeat.

In front of him was a pale figure; similar to the ghosts he remembered floating the halls of the castle. His edges were distorted, like he was underwater, but it was him. There was no doubt in his mind who was smiling down at him after so long. George felt a tear sliding down his cheek again, but he made no move to wipe it away. For once, he felt like he was almost himself again, like his heart was whole for the first time in years.

"Hey Fred."

Slowly, George stood from the ground and went to stand in front of his brother. He was close enough to touch him when he stopped, knowing that if he went farther, he would pass right through Fred. And he couldn't possibly bear the idea of walking _through_ his dear twin.

"Fred." George's voice wavered, and he knew he was crying again but he didn't care anymore. He was looking at his twin, really talking to his brother, for the first time in three years.

"Oh, Georgie." Fred sighed, his pale arm reaching out to his brother. Hastily, George reached back, his heart breaking all over again as his fingers passed over Fred's, touching nothing but a colder air. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"No. No you're not. You're dead." George whimpered, wiping his cheeks furiously.

"Well, obviously." Fred snorted. "I think I've figured that out well enough on my own, funnily enough. But thanks, George, for the reminder. It was oh-so-helpful to me. "

"Shut it you twat." George snapped, but he was smiling. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Yeah." Fred was smiling too, but it was a sad smile. "I know."

They lapsed into silence, just looking at each other. Fred looking exactly as he did when he died, and George knew that he had changed so much. Too much.

"So, what's it like. Up there. Or beyond or wherever it is you've gone off to without me." George said at last, making a weak attempt at humor. IT had been such a long time since he made a joke, and he winced at his own frailty.

"Not bad. Cooking's not as good as Mum's, though. Shepherds pie is just awful."

"I'll tell her you said that." George chuckled. "She's been a right mess without you, you know. Everybody has."

"Well, who wouldn't be? I was a bloody prince among men, robbed of my lofty time amongst them by an act of valor far beyond their comprehension. "

"Fred, you were hit by wall that blew up in your face."

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds much less heroic." Fred pouted, but there was still a hint of laughter in his ghostly face. George coulnd't help but grin, even if their jokes were in poor taste.

"You were a hero. It's just that with our history, people kept expecting it to be the most gruesome pank we've ever pulled."

"Gruesome? How about bloody brilliant! Imagine that! Aw, I can't wait to tell Prongs and Padfoot about that. It would have been genius!"

George's grin faltered a little as Fred talked about Prongs and Padfoot. He knew Harry's dad, and Sirius of course, but he had somehow assumed that they had long passed on. It never occurred to him that fred wasn't alone where he was, or that he was happy.

"Freddie." George interrupted his brother. "Are you happy?"

"Happy?" Fred shot him the look that told him he had asked a particularly stupid question. "As you so bluntly pointed out earlier, I am in fact dead. Now while being dead wasn't exactly on my "TO DO" list as of late-"

"No, Fred." George interrupted him again, suddenly really needing to know the answer. "What I meant was-are you okay? There? Are you alone or…."

"Oh, Georgie." Fred smiled again, but it was gentler. "I'm okay. I told you. It's not so bad, here. It's like….home. But quieter, and lonelier in a way. But I'm not alone. We're all here, together, you know. Sirius and Remus and James, Harry's dad, are all here. The bloody Marauders! And Harry's mum, Lily, is just like Mum, and she's watching out for me, you know. Plus, Dumbledore and Tonks are an absolute riot together. Moody's here, too, but without all the scars and wooden leg and magic eyeball and such. "

"Wish I was with you." George whispered, his lip quivering. Fred's ghostly eyes, somehow alive in the moments he was talking about the beyond, dimmed again as he took in his brother's emotions.

"No. No you don't George."

"Yes I do." George shook his head, clenching his eyes shut as more and more tears rolled down his face. "I wish I was with you, or you with me. I can't be alone, Freddie. We've never been without each other, and it feels so wrong. I wake up, and I keep expecting to hear your laugh from the next room over, or you yelling at me to finish packing the orders for the Extendable Ears or the Laugh-Starting Lollies. I look in the mirror some days and I think your standing there and I g to speak to you only to realize that the person I'm looking at is me. Mum can't look at me without crying, and I can't-I-I can't-"

George finally broke. He reached out for his brother, wanting the comfort of his arms around him, but instead all he got was a brush of cold air as he fell forward onto his knees.

"I miss you. I miss you so much. And I never told you that I was the one who broke the vase when we were three, and I blamed you, and you took the punishment even though you knew it was me, and I never said thank you. I never told you that you should have gone for it and asked Angelina to marry you instead of chickening out because I knew she would have said yes, and I was jealous and scared to lose you. I never told you I loved you, Fred, and you're my best friend and my brother and my other half. I love you. I miss you so, so much, and I love you. I love you."

There was a long pause of silence, and as George's sobs subsided, he was scared for a moment that he had dropped the stone and Fred had vanished. But he felt another draft of cold air, and after a moment, he opened his watery eyes to see the pale outline of his brother's face, tender with emotion.

"Oh, Georgie." Fred said again. "I didn't tell on you because even at that age, we were partners in every crime we committed. You didn't have to thank me because, in case you forgot, you took the blame for the "teddy bear fiasco" with Ron later. As for Angelina….maybe it's for the best things between us didn't work out. I wouldn't have wanted to leave her so soon. I wouldn't have wanted to hurt her any worse than I already have. And as for the rest of what you said…" Fred's voice suddenly sounded thicker, and George knew that if it were possible, his brother would be crying, too.

"I love you so much, George. And I knew you loved me. We were a team. We were the best. I knew it everyday that we made each other laugh, or made our friends laugh. I knew it in the way were stuck by each other, through every mistake we made. I knew it when we opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes together. I know it in the way you grieve for me every single day. You are my brother, best friend, and my other half."

George clenched his fist tightly around the little stone in his hand. This hurt so much more than he though it would, and he didn't want it to end.

"Fred…I-"

"George, you know I can't stay. As much as we both wish I could, I can't." Fred said sadly. "I want you to listen to me, now, George."

"I always listen to you." George sniffed, moving to stand.

"That's bullshit, and you know it, but anyways. I want you to promise me that you are going to stop missing me so much."

"What?" George's head shot up and he stared at his brother. "After all of that, you want me to stop missing you? And you're telling me I'm full of-"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Fred interrupted sardonically. "I meant that I don't want your grief to overpower your life. I've been with you these last three years, Georgie, even in death. I've been here,-" he raised a ghostly hand to hover over George's heart, "since the day we were born. And I am never going to leave. Remember that. Remind the others of that."

"I will." George whispered. "I promise."

"Good. Please, George. Live your life. Get married, have kids, run the shop. Don't hold on to me so tightly that you forget that you are still here. And that makes me so happy. I miss you, George, but you belong here. "

"So do you, Fred. It's not fair!" George snapped, but it was lacking all the anger he used to have.

"I know. I expect full retribution for all the things I've missed when you join me here in, oh say, eighty years." Fred smirked as his brother scoffed.

They stood once again in silence, but it was almost like it once was: comfortable and happy.

"I love you, Fred."

"I love you, George. I'll be here, always."

George smiled, really and truly smiled at the image of his brother. Slowly, he turned the Resurrection Stone over in his hand one last time before he let it slip from his fingers. George watched as Fred's face flickered out, like the flame of a candle, until he was alone again in the forest. George turned away, and just as slowly, started to make his way back to the castle, where he knew the ret of his family was no doubt waiting for him by this time. His heart felt lighter than it had in years, and while George knew he was still broken, he was a lot closer to being fixed than he had ever thought possible.

He paused, and listened. Quickly he turned his head back around and started at the empty clearing. After a minute, he smirked and shook his head and continued walking. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the utter exhaustion of all the crying and screaming. Maybe it was only the wind, even though the entire forest was still. But George could have sworn he heard his brother's voice whispering to him as he vanished.

 _Mischief Managed._

* * *

 **A/N: Fred's death had always hit me so hard, and I hated that George had never gotten the closure he needed. I cried while I wrote this, honestly. Please review! I do not own Harry Potter, etc.**


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